


Only God Can Make a Gentleman

by Pun



Category: 17th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF, Stuart Dynasty RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-16 10:07:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13051833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pun/pseuds/Pun
Summary: "In 1607, James fell in love."--Alan Stewart,The Cradle King





	1. Ab Initio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lenore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenore/gifts).



> Deep apologies for historical inaccuracies, anachronisms, and other crimes.

There were no figs in his pavilion. Fresh, of course, could not be found in this season, but that there were none dried was not to be borne. He’d have a word with his chamberlain, but this was not the first time he’d raised the matter of negligence in the kitchens. The man had said many cooks had been turned out, but James had seen no evidence of it. Figs had been Esmé’s particular favorite, and it had been at an Accession Day celebration that he’d eaten a fresh fig for the first time. Esmé had gone to a great deal of trouble and expense to arrange this pleasure for James. A lad of fifteen, James had been wary, at first, of the soft and globular form, its very skin seeming to blush as if shamed by its suggestive shape. But Esmé had convinced him to smell and then to taste the soft flesh, smiling in triumph when James had reached for a second, and then a third. That night, Esmé had introduced James to other pleasures for the first time as well.

The memory warmed James for a moment but twisted, too swiftly, to melancholy and pain as thoughts of his beloved phoenix must. How far those merry days in Edinburgh seemed now from this chill and muddy field in London. He had gained a kingdom since, but lost much as well, including his favorite feast day: a long summer day of celebration and sport for his accession. There seemed little justice in the fact that a second accession should supplant the observance of the first, but then Esmé had also taught him that being king did not mean that his desires would be fulfilled in all things. And thus he was obliged to observe the ceremony on a day in March, too cold, likely to rain, and without even the hope of a fig.

Perhaps it was because his mind had been on these choleric thoughts that he did not at first notice the exceptionally handsome young man who was Sir James Hay’s shieldbearer.

Hay himself was wearing a golden cloak and a white-plumed beaver fur hat atop his yellow curls. “His cloak pays his locks no compliment, methinks,” Philip said low, his lips making glancing contact with the edge of James’ ear. James shifted away from Philip and turned to look at Hay, but his attention was drawn to the young shieldbearer riding a stallion so white, so perfectly muscled, that he appeared to have been cut from alabaster. The youth astride the horse had such a magnificent seat that it was as if he were a part of his mount, moving as one creature. “Like a centaur,” James murmured.

Unlike Hay, the shade of the golden cloak was a perfect match to the young man’s flaxen hair and mustache. He wore no beard, and James found himself approving of this fashion which did not obscure the lad’s strong, pointed chin.

James felt his heart quicken as the young man drew closer, allowing James to discern more closely the noble serenity of expression and the proud set of his shoulders.

At the last moment, as the lad rose to dismount and present Hay’s shield to James, some evil spirit--for it could only be the work of the devil to unseat a horseman as fine as this--caused the mount to startle and buck. The first did not dislodge him, but the second did. The lad was thrown far, and, weighed down by the shield, landed badly, one leg crumpling beneath him as he collapsed onto the muddy ground.

Philip’s stifled laughter was audible to James as he stood, moving swiftly to the edge of his pavillion, whence he observed the lad’s attempts to rise, and the other esquires come forward from amongst Hay’s ranks when he did not.

“Methinks he should have chosen a steed less handsome and more docile,” Philip said.

“God’s mercy, man, can’t you see the lad is hurt?” James waved toward an attendant. “I will descend.”

One of his fellows had knelt behind the young man, supporting him to a near-seated position, but his right leg was bent at an odd angle from his body. That another attempt to stand would be folly was clear.

The young man looked up to see his monarch standing over him, an expression of awe plain upon his visage.

“Your name?” James asked. The lad’s mouth opened as if to answer, and then he looked down, betraying a fitting distress at his inability to observe proper form upon meeting his king. This seemly modesty touched James, as did his recognition of the boy’s pain, which, though he struggled not to betray it, was evident in his pallor and the sweat forming on his brow.

At this moment, Hay pushed through the crowd surrounding the youth, and James addressed his question to him. “How’s the lad called?” he asked.

Hay made his obeisance and answered, “His name is Carr, may it please your majesty. Robert Carr of Ferniehurst.”`

“Son of Thomas Carr!” James said, remembering that this lad had been amongst his running footmen brought from Scotland. That fool Henry Howard had insisted James dismiss them as an unfashionable affectation. The pity.

“Yes, your majesty,” the lad--Robert--said, his voice breathless and strained.

James addressed himself to the nearest page. “A litter at once, and fetch my physician, he shall see to the lad. And run, boy,” he exhorted. “Run!”

“An it please your majesty,” Hay said, “I have sent word that the lad will be brought to my residence at King Street, and the physicians see to him there.”

“Very well,” James said. “Very well, but Doctor Craig must be brought with all haste.” Addressing himself to the lad he said, “Craig is my personal physician and will bring all his expertise to bear upon your case. He will see to it that you suffer no permanent impairment.” Or he shall dearly regret his failure, James thought privately.

The litter was brought and James was forced to step back while Robert was surrounded by his fellows. They lifted him upon it, provoking a cry of pain, the first and only.

“Gentle! Gentle, there,” James cried. He pressed his fist to his mouth as Robert was borne away, wishing he had the freedom to follow and speak with Craig himself prior to the lad’s treatment.

The remainder of the ceremonies was tedious and overlong with little to recommend them. There were no other horsemen so fine as Robert Carr, and those who participated in the tournament were but indifferent sportsmen. James had no taste for it, and Philip was disagreeable and petulant throughout. James thought he might send the lad to Oxford for a period. It would do him good. 

*

The day following the Accession Day celebrations was as bleak and drizzly as the day before. Dr. Craig had assured James the previous evening that Carr’s leg had been set, that there was no fear of gangrene, and that he was resting in relative comfort. James had suggested a move to Whitehall, but Craig had advised strongly against it, and so it was to King Street that James rode forth, braving the damp, to survey for himself how Robert fared.

He found the young man abed but sitting upright, alert, and not much the worse for wear.

“By the care and kindness performed by your grace,” Robert replied when James remarked that he looked well.

The coverlet was pulled back so that James could observe for himself the job the surgeons had done. The leg was bound and splinted, and all appeared to be rightly done. James’ eyes wandered from the injured leg to its fellow: a more perfectly formed ham had never been modeled by any sculptor; round and well-muscled, it tapered to a bony knee and down to an equally well-formed calf. James’ eyes retraced their path, appreciating the fine, red-gold hairs which grew thicker as they approached the place where the lad’s modesty was preserved by his chemise, though the parts beneath were evidently ample.

Unwillingly, James drew back and took the seat offered him next to the bed. 

“You’ve not spent many days in London since the coronation, have you?” he asked. “Did you return to Scotland?”

“I did for a time. But for the most part, I have been in France, sire.”

“And are bare cheeks the current fashion in France?” James asked, though he suspected a lack of ability and not a lack of desire as the cause. 

His suspicion was confirmed when the lad looked down and said, “I should like to grow a beard.” Then, haltingly, his eyes coming up and then darting away, he asked, “Do you think it would suit me?”

James smiled. “ _Barba non facit philosophum,_ ” he said. 

Robert looked pained and replied, “I am afraid I do not understand you, my lord. My father did not keep a Latin tutor.” The pink which tinged his cheeks was delightful, as was the subsequent thought which James voiced immediately.

“I shall be your tutor.”

“Oh.” Robert appeared startled by the suggestion. “Your majesty must not take such trouble,” he said.

“'Od's my life! There is no trouble in it. We shall study each morning until you speak like the Roman himself. My library has volumes enough to busy ourselves for many months.” 

“Your majesty is too kind,” Robert said, which James felt was acceptance enough.

“I am a skilled schoolmaster. You shall see,” James said. 

*

James was not able to go every day to King Street, but he went more days than not. He was pleased to discover that Robert was sharp and learned quickly, although he persisted in a seemly modesty. 

On the occasion of their fifth or sixth lesson, James felt Robert advanced enough to begin to form simple sentences. “Now, to translate this sentence, ‘The man gives wisdom,’ we see _Vir_ , the man, takes the nominative case, followed by the accusative _sapientiam_ : _Vir sapientiam dat_ ,” he explained. “Repeat that to me.”

Robert paused, then smiled and said, “ _Rex sapientiam dat_.” 

James laughed. “Very good. Most excellent of pupils. Aye, you have a ready wit, lad,” he said. Then, as natural as the stream flows to the ocean, James’ hand extended and found Robert’s cheek, running his knuckles along the fine skin, smooth and warm as that of a babe’s. “What reward might I give thee?”

“I desire nothing. Your majesty’s kind attentions are already greater than I deserve.”

“The diligent pupil must have a prize. A new garment, perchance?” 

“I have little need of fashion at present,” Robert said, indicating the injured leg which kept him abed still.

“Aye, but you shall be healed soon enough, and will have need of good clothes to wear at court. I shall send my tailors,” he said.

“As your majesty wishes.” Robert inclined his head. 

The matter settled and the lesson concluded, James ought to have taken his leave. Cecil had been most peevish lately at James’ frequent absence, for he would have him always at Whitehall poring over the latest dispatches from the Continent and acts of Parliament.

James would return to the dispatches soon enough, but he was not ready to quit Robert’s company. He looked about himself in search of inspiration to prolong the visit.

Finding nothing to comment upon in the rather spare room, he finally asked, “How did you fare when you were in France? Did the French court please you?” 

“I liked the French ladies,” Robert replied with a hint of a smile at once bawdy and charming. 

James’ blood quickened. The thought of the lad in the bed of some French harlot both enticed and repulsed him. He licked his lips and asked, “And the French gentlemen, how did you like them?”

For the first time in their acquaintance, Robert met James’ gaze and held it steadily. “Yes, they pleased me too,” he said. 

A knowledge seemed to pass between them, a moment where they were no longer monarch and subject but two men of similar understanding and inclinations.

“You will have to wait many days for your new garments to be complete. Perhaps a reward more immediate could be found,” James said, voice low. He moved closer, slowly, as he would approach a wild bird. James looked for signs of refusal and, finding none, he brought his lips to the spot where his knuckles had rested against Robert’s smooth cheek. He allowed them to remain there long seconds before he drew away. “ _Basium_ ,” he said, “a kiss.” 

Robert’s cheek had turned scarlet, but he continued to meet James’ gaze with his own. “ _Basium_ ,” he repeated. 

“Nominative: _basium, basia_ ; genitive: _basii, basiorum_ ; dative: _basio, basiis_ ,” James said softly. 

Robert nodded. “Does the schoolmaster deserve a reward as well for his excellent teaching?” he asked.

“Perhaps,” James said. He rested his hand on Robert’s shoulder to help him upright, and then extended it so that it was but a few inches from the lad’s face. Robert caught the idea and, taking James’ hand in his own, leaned forward and kissed his fingers. Robert’s lips were as smooth and warm as an ember against James’ skin. 

James desired to linger with all of his heart, but it was already past noon.

“This room is excessive close,” he told the servant sitting outside of Robert’s chamber. “You must open a window.” In his coach, he brought his hand to his face, inhaling to see if the kiss had left some scent, but could detect nothing.

*

James thought to return that evening; he could hardly bear to wait even until the next morning to see Robert again after such a tender exchange, but scarcely had he entered Whitehall but he was greeted with the news of an uprising in Northamptonshire. Still worse, some cursed fair wind had hastened the passage of the host of Danish ladies come to attend Anna’s lying in, and the following days were entirely taken up with feasting and entertainments in their honor.

When James suggested that he might absent himself for a short while, Anna had spoken in a most contrary way, accusing James of caring more for young Carr’s progress at Latin than he did for Prince Henry’s. 

Thus, when James next arrived at the house on King Street where increasingly he felt his heart dwelled, many days had passed. 

He entered Robert’s chamber to discover a man he did not know in conversation with Robert, leaning close with his hand upon Robert’s arm. James made a sound, and the man started as if surprised to have their intimacy interrupted. 

He had dark curls that fell to his shoulders and penetrating blue eyes that seemed to spark with anger for a moment before he lowered his head and his knee in recognition.

James liked it not. He liked even less Robert’s air of guilt, although he made his usual attempted bow and spoke prettily of how overlong he had found his school holiday. 

“Thomas Overbury, servitor-in-ordinary to your majesty, and Rob’s secretary,” the man said by way of presenting himself. 

“Overbury, yes,” James said. He slightly recalled the man’s introduction at court. He looked to be some years older than Robert, and he had a cunning aspect--as if believing he knew something that the king did not.

“I thought to continue our lessons,” James said, addressing Robert, “but perhaps you are weary of visitors and would prefer to be left in solitude.” He had wished to begin again from their last parting, but saw no possibility of doing so with Overbury present. 

“'Od’s my life, no! Do not fear that I have neglected my studies in the master’s absence,” Robert replied. “Thomas, fetch me those papers, won’t you?”

Overbury retrieved the papers Robert had indicated.

“You may leave us,” James told him after. 

“Thank you, your grace,” he said. And then, “Rob, fare thee well.” There was nothing to criticize in Overbury’s formal bow, but again as he departed his gaze lingered on James’ face for a moment with a boldness that bordered on impudence. 

“I like him not,” James said when Overbury was gone. “There is a meanness about him. He lacks the air of a gentleman. I shall find you another secretary.”

“I would be grateful, of course, for such kind attention, but I pray that you will not,” Robert said with a look of genuine distress. “Tom has his foul humors, but he is such a clever fellow. I would never have survived the French court without him. And I know he is as grateful as I am to your majesty for your generosity to me. We hold each other so dear that any kindness to the one is like a kindness to the other.”

James considered. He did not like to refuse Robert.

Into the pause Robert continued, “And come, the teacher must review the student’s labors.” He displayed the papers Overbury had gathered. There in Robert’s neat hand was a full conjugation of the verb basiare, followed by sentences written out with their translations:

 _Rex basiabit juventute_ \- The king will kiss the youth.  
_Rex basiat juventute_ \- The king kisses the youth.  
_Basiavit rex juventute_ \- The king has kissed the youth.  
_Basia juventute_ \- Kiss the youth.

The papers were somewhat crushed as James obeyed the command of the final sentence. 

By the end of the lesson, James was well pleased with the progress Robert had made with several verbs in addition to _basiare_ , and on naming the parts of the body as well.

“Methinks you must be fit to be moved by this time,” he said as he took his leave. “I shall enquire of the physicians and see that a room is made ready at the palace.”


	2. Ad Coelum

The Great Hall of the palace was a riot of noise and bodies: workmen putting up stage and scaffolding for the Christmas masques; the new tailor and his men come to measure costumes for the players and new feast clothes for himself and Anna and the children, and for Robert; and courtiers come to observe the melée.

Robert had chosen this tailor fellow, and assured James that his fabrics and patterns were the pinnacle of the current fashion. Indeed, James liked much the deep blue of the doublet being fitted to Robert for the Christmas feast, with the silver hose and garters that showed to advantage his fully restored and beautiful legs.

James knew now that it had been an angel, not a devil, that had bewitched Robert’s horse on Accession Day, bringing about the events which had drawn them together. They still found time for their Latin lessons most days, but Robert was obstinate about engaging in physical affection at court, where they were never left private.

Happily, Robert would be knighted and made a Gentleman of the Bedchamber as part of the Christmas revels. James intended to put the occasion and Robert’s new position to good use. 

“The Archbishop has come to review the progress of the biblical translation committees with your majesty,” an attendant informed him.

“Yes. Let us meet him in the library. Sir Carr will attend me. We shall review his Latin afterward.”

James took Robert’s arm and made his way out of the chamber, passing a knot of courtiers who paused their conversation to make their obeisance.

Like a group of jackdaws, their chatter resumed as he passed. Most of what they said was not intelligible, but one remark carried and caught his attention.

“The king would do better to teach his wanton English, forsooth. These Scots are all in need of refinement.” 

That Robert had heard as well was plain from the darkening of his brow and the blush in his cheeks. James felt rage rise in his breast. He would have liked to return to determine the speaker, but none would dare own it, and these knaves were, for the most part, unknown to him.

He had recognized Frederick Arundell and one of those loathsome Treshams, but the others were beneath his notice. Sir Hay had been present in the chamber. He would set him to discover the other names.

*

Campion’s masque had been glorious, the boar’s head spitted to perfection, and the mulled wine and other spirits flowed freely. James could scarcely remember a more joyous Twelfth Night celebration. Twenty musicians and more played on as the revels continued, but James was impatient for the time to withdraw.

Robert had been entered this day onto the rolls as a permanent Gentleman of the Bedchamber. This was to be their first night passed together, and James believed no man had ever felt a keener anticipation than he did.

When at last the time came to withdraw, the Gentlemen of the Bedchamber rose with James to accompany him. John Ramsay came forward to lend his arm as had been his habit, but James declined, instead indicating his preference that Robert walk beside him.

They entered his chambers, and although they were surrounded by his men, James felt as if he and Robert were the only souls in all the world. He extended a hand toward Robert’s fair cheek, but paused with the gesture half-concluded, like an arrow arrested mid-flight. He was startled to notice his fingers were trembling. Robert reached out, covering James’ hand with his own, and brought it to his face.

This moment, carrying with it the ghost of their first kiss, took James with strong emotion and roused him almost to the point of madness.

“Leave us,” he said.

Robert’s eyes strayed from his to a point over James’ shoulder.

“Your grace,” came the voice of Ramsay, “I shall assist you to disrobe.” That had been his duty previously, but James could bear no man’s touch but Robert’s on this night.

“At once,” James commanded, and the voice came from deep within him.

From Robert’s face, he could see that Ramsay had not obeyed. Robert spoke, “His majesty commands we be left private.”

James thrilled to see Robert’s sweet lips form that beautiful word. At last he heard the sound of Ramsay and the others exiting his chamber, and only they two remained, with infinite privacy to follow wither their pleasure led them.

With his hand, which had never left its landing place, he now drew Robert forward, guiding him to close the remaining distance and bring their lips flush against each other. He drank in the full lushness of Robert’s mouth, like the sweetest and most luscious of fruits, one that simultaneously quenched and stoked a thirst within him. They broke apart for but a moment, swiftly moving to couple again, kisses upon kisses until James felt dizzy with it, only noticing after it had begun that Robert’s hands were inside his doublet, moving to disrobe him while remaining joined in their embrace.

“Please,” said James, though he should have been the one to command and not to beg. Never before where he’d known such strong desire had he also been plagued with such uncertainty.

Robert led James to the bed, their fine new clothes now in complete disorder with Robert’s ruff crushed and his collar torn, and James’ hose rent from ankle to knee. Robert slowed in an effort to take care with what remained of their garments, but James had not the patience. He plucked and tore at the last of the cloth between them until they were fully naked. They lay down alongside one another, and James could see that Robert’s desire was as urgent as his own, his upright cock almost as entrancing as the naked hams that at last, _at last_ James could run his hands along, tracing each curved muscle with reverent fingertips.

James had imagined himself gentle in this moment, believed his desire would not overcome his reason, but no mere dreaming could prepare him for the feeling of Robert’s naked body against his own.

Robert for his part betrayed no fear. He moved quickly to lie on his stomach and made no objection while James prepared him, taking some care, at least, in this.

“There’s a good lad,” James said, running his free hand down that most beautiful of flanks. “Aye, my brave, good lad.”

Robert murmured some sound of pleasure, urging James forth, and he could no more resist such a sweet invitation than could the oceans the pull of the tide. He mounted in one swift motion and felt the sweet heat envelop him.

There was no reason, only physical pleasure sweeter than James had ever known. “My Robert,” he said. “My darling, my minion,” and other endearments tumbled forth from his lips until he could speak no more. He could only moan as he spent, and felt Robert writhe under him and spend of himself as well.

*

The scaffolding was still being dismantled and a few still-drunk musicians chased from the Great Hall, but most of the other signs of the previous night’s celebrations had been cleared away by the time James and Robert emerged from his chamber.

James found Cecil awaiting him, and took the opportunity to tell the Secretary of his intention to discharge the younger Arundel and the others he’d overheard making sport of Robert.

“Have them turned off by the Feast of Sebastian, Cecil,” James told him, furnishing him with the written list provided by Hay.

Cecil took the document from him; James could see from the thinning line of his mouth as he read the names that he would give some argument.

“As your highness commands, so shall it be done. But consider, sire, that we have only lately quelled the Midland revolt, and Ballard recently inherited an estate in Warwickshire. There is discretion in keeping him at court.”

“We shall not. I like not his fashion, the doublet too short and sleeves too narrow. I like a flowing garment.” James turned to look at Robert. “I cannot bear to look upon Ballard or any of these fellows another day. See it done.”

Cecil made some words of acknowledgment and took his leave, but James attended it not, more fascinated by the sweet look upon Robert’s face.

James crossed to him, smoothing a wrinkle from his shoulder. His hand to traveled from shoulder to chest and rested, for a moment, over Robert’s heart. “The new garments suit you. We shall order more from these tailors for the new year.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” Robert said.

“I like to see you looking well.”

“No, not for--Rather, yes, thank you for the clothes, and for the horses, and for the knighthood. You are the most generous monarch that ever lived, I believe. But I wish to thank you for--I know not how to say it precisely.” Here Robert stopped speaking as if in the grip of some strong emotion.

James felt an answering tide in his own breast, an acute distress at seeing such agitation in one normally so composed. “You need not speak, my dearest,” he said, kissing Robert’s brow, his cheeks, his lips.

Robert returned the kiss, but all too quickly drew away. The hurt was soothed, however, when he said with a piercing sincerity, “No man has ever taken my part as you have.” He knelt and kissed James’ hand.

“Rise. Rise, my sweet. I know of no man living who is more deserving. I have seen how gossip and jealousy can ruin a good man. Those with so mean an understanding do not ken the nobility of a mind and spirit like yours, and so they attempt to destroy it. I will not allow it. Not a second time.” Robert stood, and they embraced. James felt as if his heart were beating anew in his chest, for he could discern each tremor keenly in a manner he could not recall feeling in over five and twenty years. 

“You must confess to me the names of any others who have treated you ill. I shall have that promise from you.” James had given much of himself to his kingdom, to Christendom, to his kin, but he would not sacrifice Robert. If being king could not secure him even the means to keep his love safe, then it was worth nothing. 

Robert closed his eyes. Some trace of his earlier pain lingered on his face, but his voice was clear and sweet when he said, “I am but your humble servant. It shall be as your majesty wishes.”

 

_finis_

**Author's Note:**

> This story would not exist without the amazing assistance of [no_detective](https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_detective/), and truly heroic betaing and cheerleading from [oliviacirce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliviacirce)! 
> 
> Many thanks to Iona for the last-minute Brit pick. 
> 
> And ALL of the thanks to my dear, dear [ Lenore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenore/) for requesting this story! It was such a pleasure to write!
> 
> All remaining mistakes are mine.


End file.
